A/N: It's that time of year again! My lovely stalker (Alijandra's Editor) had a birthday, as people tend to, and I love her so much that I gave her another birthday ficlet. The idea of this one is something that she's been asking me for since...probably since we first started talking. She wanted a bit of drunk Drarry and I was happy to oblige. I've also thrown in a song basis done by one of our shared interests (the goddess - Ellie Goulding; Love Me Like You Do) and based this in the world of my fic "Set the World on Fire". Since she loves it so much and I really have been considering continuing that one soon...
Anyway, happy birthday to my Sarah! Hope you love the cuteness and the drama. (All the rest of you, please let me know what you think in a review because I LOVE reviews. They give my day meaning :D)

The beginning of it seemed so…cliché. Harry was aware of that. He thought it was revolting. But he couldn't change the beginning. Wouldn't change the beginning.

His marriage was on the rocks. It had been for years, but it definitely worsened once the children were all in school. When that happened, he and Ginny fully realized just how far they had grown apart. Well…maybe she didn't yet. Harry wasn't sure – but he could definitely feel the chasm between them.

He knew he should talk to his wife. Open a discussion and get her side. But the very thought of it scared him in unsettling ways. He was Harry Potter. Harry Potter was destined to have the rest of his life handed to him on a silver platter. There wasn't meant to be bumps or mishaps. He'd had enough of that as a child.

It was why he married Ginny.

Ginny was the perfect future he had longed for after the war. She was home and safe and there.

Three children and twenty-three years later… Things were beginning to look less than picture perfect.

Most nights these days, Harry took as many hours at work as he could get. It felt better to be away from home. Being Head Auror meant that he could most definitely find reasons to stay at work for longer than necessary. Or…he could easily lie about where he was and go somewhere else….

Tonight, that somewhere else happened to be the home of Draco Malfoy. Over the last year, he had been here often. It started with simple visits to get the case straightened for the suicide of the man's wife. Collecting evidence, taking statements, simple work tasks. But…somehow it shifted after those first few visits to something like consoling. He took to talking to the man. Asking how his day was. Then asking how he was holding up. Then comforting him as he wept.

And, finally, a week ago…it had shifted into something more.

They dealt with what happened in different ways, it seemed. The instant Harry let himself into the house, as he was accustomed to doing, Draco's drunkenness was obvious. He was sitting in the entrance hall, a near empty bottle of Ogden's Finest perched upon his knee. The other hand was curled in a fist that kept smacking against the wood flooring.

Harry had been more concerned this last week with trying to remember what happened. He allowed his courage to build a stead upon it. He was working up what to say about it and finally thought he had it down.

But walking in on someone who looked as if they had been wasted for days dissipated every brave word.

Frowning, he closed the door behind him and took measured steps towards the man. "Hey, Draco," he muttered softly, gripping the bottle of firewhiskey. "Y'alright?"

Draco's response was small and lazy. He merely opened his fist, a small diamond ring clattering to the floor. Its clink echoed through the empty halls, stilling Harry's motion to strip the alcohol from its owner. "I've been thinking about marital vows…."

Trying to make light, Harry allowed himself to laugh. He moved to kneel beside the other man and covered the ring with a carefully placed hand. "And why would you be thinking about that?"

The shove Draco gave to Harry's shoulder was rough. Brutal. Aimed with anger. He took another drink, hardly wincing, as the other fell harshly back against the floor. "Harry Potter, don't you dare ask me…." He frowned, drifting off mid-thought, looking as if he couldn't remember why he was shouting. "I mean…." With a scoff, he thunked his head back against the wall. "You know, Harry."

Unfortunately, Harry was sure he did know. He looked down at his own wedding band with a ragged sigh. "You are…. Um…." He shrugged, picking up the diamond ring and slipped it into the front pocket of Draco's wrinkled suit jacket. "Look, for all intents and purposes, you are divorced. Sort of. I mean…." The hurt look in Draco's eyes showed plainly exactly how terrible Harry was at this. He stopped talking immediately and sat back against the wall beside the man.

"I'm not divorced," Draco spat. "My wife died. I am a widower. And…. And you're married!"

There were real tears in the blonde's eyes when he looked up at Harry. All he wanted was to pull him into his arms and comfort him. But from their current argument…he was sure that wasn't allowed. Smiling tight, he reached for the bottle of booze. "Look, you're drunk, Draco…. Why don't you give me a chance to catch up…then we'll talk. Cool?"

XxX

It started with a few shots. The line of three was nothing but pure Russian vodka. Draco swore by it with a devious grin on his lips. And not long after allowing them to burn down his throat, Harry could see why.

He didn't often drink much so…it didn't take much for him to lose his grip. Everything was tilting like gravity was failing. In a rush, he felt most of its weight hit him at once. He quickly settled into a barstool at the counter, holding his head. "Whoa," he whispered, understanding why the liquid had burned like gasoline down his throat.

'Pure' was an understatement.

'Pure' ended up driving them out to the drawing room with a tray full of random snacks and the bottle to share between them.

'Pure' loosened their tongues in ways nothing but Veritaserum could.

"Alright, Potter…," Draco drawled, articulating his words rather well for someone who had a head start. "You wanted to talk, so let's talk. Let's talk…about truths and falsities. True or false. I ask, you answer; you ask…I answer. Understood?"

It seemed simple enough. And Harry had said he wanted to talk. He was sure he could get the answers he wanted this way. Or…in the very least, he could get Draco to open up. And Merlin knew that wasn't an easy feat. Smiling slyly, he nodded in consent. He settled back against one arm of the loveseat they shared, Draco cross-legged and seemingly in control directly across from him.

He was always in control, but there seemed to be something forced about it tonight. Like he was trying extra hard to keep the guise up.

"True or false – your wife knows where you are tonight."

Scoffing, Harry lifted his shoulders and lazily let them slump back down. "False. Incredibly false…."

Draco didn't seem too surprised by the answer. If anything, he actually came off as…delighted? In a tamed form. To cover the slight upturn of the corners of his lips, he leaned forward and snatched up an apple slice. For a moment, he distracted himself by examining it. Smirking at the jagged, terribly botched job Harry had made with his near-drunken slices.

There were actions Harry would have rather taken. A thousand things he wished he could do. But he contented himself with biting back a wide grin and clasping his anxious hands together. "My turn, I suppose," he muttered. "Uh…true or false – you only smile anymore when I'm around."

A heated blush flamed Draco's pale cheeks a moment later. He averted his eyes to the cushions and readjusted his sitting position. Straightened his back. Bit his apple slice with a hint of vengeance. "True," he whispered, soft enough to be obvious that he didn't really want to be heard.

Pride swelled within Harry when he caught the small word. It filled him completely, causing him to let loose with that bright, unapologetic grin. It pounded so viciously in his ears that he was almost deaf to the redirective question Draco asked next.

"You enjoy cats."

"Is there any possible way to answer that as false?" Harry burst out in laughter, pushing up off of the couch arm. Without a second thought, he shifted closer to the other and snuck a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "True or false – you've slept with a man."

The instant the words left Harry's mouth, Draco looked as if he'd been punched in the face. His eyes went wide and he completely forgot about the half-chewed bite within his slack jaw. It was the type of question that could sober the most intoxicated. It rushed through him, purifying his mind enough for his words to falter. He flapped his mouth open and shut a few times, wanting to say one thing and then changing his mind seconds later. The indecision was clear in every single bit of his cautious demeanor.

"True," the blonde finally breathed, swallowing hard before firing his question right back. "You?"

"False."

Again, Draco was rendered speechless and could only manage to shake his head slowly back and forth. He didn't seem to have a response to that.

This was Harry's opportunity to seize a moment. He was sure that if he didn't – if he pushed the subject back to comfortable – he would regret it later. And so, with the alcohol numbing his conscience, he shifted up onto his knees. He shuffled closer. He moved the tray of food to the coffee table. He settled just in front of Draco, the space between them minimal. And he posed his next question on only a hint of a breath.

"You are…sexually attracted to men…?"

Draco didn't shift closer. He didn't move. It almost seemed like he didn't even breathe. The only small, almost imperceptible clue he gave to the fact that he'd heard was the quiet "Truth" spoken with his immobile lips.

"Truth," Harry repeated. His lips quirked into a hopeful smile and the idea of space was suddenly lost between them.

In a rush of vodka-influenced passion, Harry was upon the other man. His lips closed over the Draco's as he settled into a mildly uncomfortable straddling position upon the lap beneath him. At first, he was met with nothing but stone. It was something he had come to expect, but that didn't keep the oily feeling of fear from his belly. Taking a second to breathe, he pulled back and tried to look into those steely eyes of grey. But they were closed. And Draco was closed off.

And Harry was beginning to rethink his current position.

Sighing in soft dejection, he dropped his hands from their tentative curl in the blonde locks. He shifted just slightly, knowing he should back off. But a soft query stilled his escape. "Harry…?" Draco exhaled, his words tickling the lips just an inch from his own. "Can you…. Can you promise that you won't forget about me…like you're forgetting about her?"

Ice slipped through every single one of Harry Potter's veins. He shrunk back a bit, his face a mask of confusion. Distraught. Distaste. He wasn't forgetting Ginny. He wasn't. She just…. Well, he wasn't….

He just couldn't love her any longer!

The day Harry had realized this wasn't all that far back. And it did, indeed, include this man beneath him.

XxX

Astoria had just died a week previous. The details of her suicide were daily news at first, but had begun to drift out as the days went by. Sympathy was short for her loved ones, the Malfoy name muddying the unfortunate circumstances further. Accusations – as wild as they may be – were being made against her husband. They flooded in daily by this point, begging the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to investigate the matter.

It was for that reason that Harry even set foot on Malfoy property. He rang the buzzer of the townhouse, taking note of its size because, though it was still rather large, it was still much smaller than he had imagined.

A child opened the door a moment later, a striking image of his father. Right down to the calculating look as he raked the silver pools of his eyes over the man before him. "What's an officer of the DLME doing here?" he asked without hesitance, crossing his arms in indignation. Like he automatically had something to defend himself against.

"Scorpius, go to your grandfather's for a while. Please." Draco Malfoy appeared behind his son, looking positively disheveled. Wrecked. Broken. He ran his fingers through the boy's hair as the child surveyed Harry one last time before turning on his heel and stalking away. "Come on in, Potter. I was wondering when they would send someone…."

Harry let himself in as the other walked away. He shut the door behind himself. Looked around and took in the decently homey feel of the house. As well as the hollowness that was starting to sink in. Something definitely felt wrong in this house. It felt like something had been taken from it and things were falling apart for it.

"I know you're going to ask, so we might as well get this out of the way." Draco led them into a small drawing room, flopping down into a definitely lived-in chair. Around it were abandoned dishes and remnants of food and he pulled a blanket up over him for comfort. It was messy and reflected the mental position he must be in. "I didn't do anything, as far as I can recall, to contribute to my wife's suicide. And I have no idea who would have had that kind of influence over her. I honestly think…this is one-hundred-percent Astoria and…and I will never really understand what happened. And that is my statement."

Draco's voice was tired. He sounded like he had been preparing himself for this very thing, psyching himself up for it. Giving a forced smile, Harry slowly sat down in the chair across from him. There was a notebook in his hand and he was taking small notes. But, mostly, he was starting to feel like an ass for intruding upon this.

Since the end of the war, he and this man had been on better grounds. They had come to terms after Harry vouched for the entire family during the trials. It hadn't put him in very good favor with several people, but it was something he felt passionate about. In the end, Draco and Narcissa wanted out of that life. He wasn't too sure about Lucius. The man had a way of wearing masks all too well. But he couldn't just exclude the one member of the family in his testimony. They had all partially attributed to his still-beating heart and he owed them that much.

"Look, Malfoy…. I have no idea how to even console you here." Harry sighed, dragging a hand roughly over his mouth. "I'm only here because I have to be. But, for the record, I believe you. I have no reason not to. And…I can tell that you miss your wife very much. She was obviously very special to you and, I'm sure, to your family. You have my condolences and my support in your recovery."

As Draco looked up, his eyes cut into Harry like a blade. He hissed in a soft breath, seeing the soul-shattering pain written in that gaze. There were tears barely held inside. His chest was shaking as he pulled air in and forced it out. It seemed as if he was barely held together. Only alive because he had to be.

In that moment, seeing that agony, Harry knew that this was something he had never felt. He'd known loss and too much of it. But this type of loss? The loss of someone he loved more than life itself…. That was something he had yet to know.

And if Ginny were to pass today, he wasn't sure that fact would change.

XxX

Nearly a year later, Harry wasn't so sure this fact was true any longer. But not about Ginny. He knew there was someone in his life that could devastate him in the way Astoria's death had for Draco. It was a thought that kept him up at night. Kept him at a distance from his wife. Attributed to the nervous air in their home. Caused him to question the past twenty-three years of his life. Brought him to test the waters a week previous with a goodbye kiss.

"I'm not forgetting Ginny," Harry muttered in response a few minutes later. The hot beginnings of tears were bubbling in his eyes. Threatening to break through and shatter the resolution with which he spoke. "I'm not, Draco. I just, uh…. I mean, I love her. But I certainly don't love her in the way I once did. And that is because…someone else has taken her place. And I truly have no explanation for it. I didn't seek it out. It just happened.

"And I could never forget these new feelings for you. I could never forget the way I want to make you feel. I could never forget the way you make me want to feel."

Like his words triggered something within the other, Draco had a sudden and deathly grip upon the back of Harry's head. He tugged at the wayward strands of hair, pulling his mouth back to meet his with a fervent passion. The crash felt even more intoxicating that the alcohol had. Harry felt like he was more than drunk. He was weightless. He couldn't think straight and everything swam before his eyes.

Every single touch that followed felt like fire. It felt like Draco was leaving scorch marks every time his lips grazed a span of flesh. Neither even tried to hold back their pleasured noises or the way they begged for more. Inhibition was a thing of the past on that night. And progression was never-ending.

XxX

Glaring sunlight woke Harry the next morning. It streamed in through a window just to his left, the drapes parted to reveal the beginning of the day. He rolled over in the almost too-soft bed beneath him, careful to shift away from the definite weight he could feel to his right.

Details were hazy at this moment, but there were a few things he knew for certain. One – this was definitely not his marital bed. Two – he was only currently wearing a pair of pants. Three – Draco Malfoy snored.

Very slowly, he craned his neck to look at the man and assess his situation. As far as he could tell with the placement of the covers, Draco was at least shirtless. None of this was actually factual proof of what happened the night previous, but it was definitely a good start. An indication that the parts he couldn't remember might have been quite intimate.

And, ultimately, he wasn't sure how that made him feel.

Harry had an option then – leave before Draco could wake and notice…or stay. The first option was the one he leaned toward. It wasn't that he was ashamed of whatever might have happened. He was actually quite thrilled by the idea. But, that didn't change the fact that they were intoxicated when it happened – if it happened. That was where he wasn't sure what to think. Or do. Or say.

"Nothing happened."

Harry wasn't sure how long he was lying there, freaking out. He wasn't sure if any time passed at all. He was so lost in this frozen loop inside his mind of constant questions that he wasn't accurately perceiving the world around him. That included not hearing when Draco quit his slumbered noises at his side. He looked over at the other with wary eyes, sitting up in the process. "What?"

Attempting to get up into the same position, to follow Harry, Draco moved to sit up as well. Halfway through, however, he seemed to think better of it and crashed back into the pillow. His hands came up to cover his eyes, pressing in so tightly it looked painful. "I'm assuming that statue routine of indecision was because you couldn't remember what happened last night?" he ground out, his voice like gravel.

For a moment, Harry nodded before remembering that he couldn't be seen. Biting his lip, Harry voiced the affirmation aloud.

"Well, nothing happened last night. We didn't fuck. You're in the clear." Letting out a harsh breath, Draco removed on of his hands from his eyes to blindly reach for his wand. "You fell asleep before anything happened. Big baby." Once his fingers closed around the thin wood, he waved it once before tossing it aside. Seconds later, a basket of phials were summoned to his lap and he was riffling through them with a squinted gaze.

Taking pity on the man with the obvious hangover, Harry (who, thankfully, wasn't feeling anything worse than a dull throb to his temple) shifted back over to Draco's side. He grabbed the basket from him and made a much quicker search of the contents. In seconds he was handing a Pepper-Up Potion to the man who eagerly drunk it down without question.

The effects of the potion took place almost immediately. Draco's hands fell from cradling his head rather slowly and slumped to his sides. He looked up at Harry with that once-again lifeless look to his eyes, not even bothering to fake a smile. "I think you should go. Get home. Change. Get to work." He pushed up out of bed, turning his back on the other.

It was plain what Draco wanted. Even if he hadn't expressly said it, his body language would have been enough. He was cold and the angles of his features were sharp. With a quiet nod and a dejected heart, Harry searched for his abandoned clothing. He dressed faster than he could ever remember and was heading for the door without as much as a single word.

He wasn't expecting a goodbye. He wasn't expecting anything else to be said or done. Draco wanted him gone and he was going to ignore him until he left. That was what he thought.

When Draco did speak, his words were soft. There wasn't a single hint of regret or disgust to his words. They halted Harry with their hope and very slight happiness. He nodded and smiled, those words running through his head over and over again as he disapparated from the property. As he slipped inside and dodged questions his wife had with half-thought lies. As he dressed and readied for his day. And as he went about his job with a half-dazed look transfixed to his face that spoke of his eager daydreams.

"Hey, Potter…. Come back tonight and we'll try again…."